by Lauren Berg
Possible motive: Wanting a better story. Benefiting from a better story career-wise.
That seemed to be a better use of her time, even as it hurt to admit that anyone would ever see her in such a light.
She saved her changes, and dialed Jerry's number. He answered on the first ring. "I hear there's been a little excitement up in your area. Want to tell me about it?"
"Oh, please, Jere, don't play coy. I know you've been following all of this just like everyone else in the world."
"So, did you do it?"
"What?" Laura's heart skipped a beat. How had he already heard about her run-in with the police?
"Did you get the interview before she was offed?"
Laura exhaled. "Don't be so crass. And no, I didn't get the chance. I was supposed to sit down with her today as a matter of fact."
Jerry swore softly under his breath. "Get me some inside info on this story then. Or you'll be relegated to covering trade shows for the rest of your career."
"Trade shows? Is that even a thing that we cover at the paper?" Laura said with a laugh.
"Didn't scare you, huh? I need to work on that. Listen, kid, if you get this story it will look really good for both of us. You know that. Maybe we'll even get promotions, the both of us. Ask your friend, Amy, if she can help you. She seems to have some decent connections."
Laura sighed as they hung up. He couldn’t really be expecting to get a promotion out of all of this. There was nothing to get the scoop on, and she certainly wasn’t going to hand herself over as the sacrificial lamb for a story of an investigation into a crime she didn’t commit. Her head ached, and her thoughts swirled. She thought that Jerry had said something else that bothered her, but she couldn’t straighten out the thoughts in her head. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but whatever she was going to do, she needed to do it well.
CHAPTER FOUR
“So what do you think I should do?” Laura asked Amy.
Amy pulled her robe around her svelte frame, and tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “You need to relax,” she said as she stood and walked to the French doors that opened onto the balcony.
Laura trailed her friend outside. “The police think I’m a suspect.”
“No they don’t,” Amy said. She leaned against the railing, looking so effortlessly comfortable in her surroundings that Laura could hardly believe that she was the same person Laura had known for so long. “They’re just using their power to intimidate you. Edith von Farron going missing is high profile, and those guys have never dealt with anything scarier than a stolen car. Don’t worry about it.”
Laura gave her a disgusted look. “We’ve been through this before,” she said. “You remember those other times we’ve gotten involved in police cases, right?”
Amy laughed. “Yes, I love our amateur sleuthing. I love coming along with you when you let me. Your life is far more exciting than mine.”
“I don’t know about that,” Laura grumbled.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Amy asked.
“Investigate, of course,” Laura said, pulling out her phone.
“Of course,” Amy repeated drily. “Well, can I give you a suggestion of someone to start with?”
“Yes, definitely,” Laura said as she perked up immediately.
“Lawrence von Farron is Edith’s nephew. He’s here in the hotel. From what I know about him, he basically trails Edith around like a little lap dog. I’ve heard rumors that it’s because he wants to be her sole heir, over his father. I guess he figures that if he’s constantly in her face, then she’ll see him as the obvious choice to take over for her.”
“He has to contend with several other people, though, right? I mean, Edith’s married again, and her brother, not to mention any of the charities she supports.” Laura stared out toward the bay. She tried to picture Edith on the yacht when someone had come aboard with the intent to harm her. She glanced at her friend. “Did Edith have security?”
“Of course,” Amy said, nodding vigorously. “Someone like Edith needed security.”
“So, where were they last night?”
“I guess that’s the first thing you can ask Lawrence,” Amy said with a small smile.
“Now, how do I find him?” Laura asked.
Amy leaned over the railing of the balcony again. She seemed to be looking for something. “There,” she said, pointing. “By the pool. That’s Lawrence von Farron.”
Laura leaned over beside her, and squinted down at the turquoise water in the pool. “Who can be out on a day like today?” she asked.
“It’s sunny,” Amy shrugged. “Head down before he disappears.”
Laura gripped her phone tightly in her hand, and threw her other arm around Amy. “Thank you,” she said before she took off through the suite.
As she rode the elevator down to the lobby, she thought about all the things that she could open with, but by the time she stepped out, she’d decided that she was just going to go for the honest approach. Lawrence would be easy enough to flatter if he was out tanning in seventy degree weather. She’d use his obvious vanity to her advantage.
Laura was feeling confident when she stepped onto the pool deck. Lawrence von Farron was reclining on a lounge chair on the other side of the water, and she hung out behind a potted palm tree watching him for a few moments. He wore a tiny pair of speedos, and his chest hair was shaved into a triangle. If she hadn’t been so jittery, she might have laughed. The gold chain around his neck only enhanced the hilarity.
Approaching him, she was glad that she was still wearing the same clothes with which she’d intended to have her interview with his aunt. She felt put together, and that made walking up to a stranger that much easier.
“Mr. von Farron? Hi, my name’s Laura Seymour. I’m a friend of Amy Madison’s. She thought you might like to have an exclusive interview in the Los Angeles Chronicle.”
Lawrence von Farron lowered his sunglasses, and gave her a long look up and down. Laura tried not to shudder. That wouldn’t have been the best way to start any interview, much less one that could be important to her career.
“Amy Madison? She’s a little hottie. Is she here right now?”
Laura fought the urge to roll her eyes. She sat down on the lounge chair beside Lawrence, and tucked her feet beneath her as demurely as possible. “She is. She would love to see you at some point. I am so sorry to hear about your aunt.”
Lawrence grunted. “Yeah, poor old girl. She didn’t deserve to be offed like that.”
“Offed like what?” Laura asked. She fingered her phone. Surreptitiously she got it to the camera, and began to film.
“Oh, you know, snatched from the comfort of her yacht only to be tossed out onto the cold, cruel open water. Probably devoured by a shark.” Lawrence barked out a laugh.
“That’s awful,” Laura said. “I was supposed to have an interview with your aunt this morning.”
“Tough toenails, toots,” Lawrence replied.
Laura tilted her head as she squinted at him. He didn’t seem very broken up about his aunt’s disappearance, and that made her suspicious. Still, she knew she needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this was just his way of grieving.
“Yes, well, it is quite tough. Or rather it puts me in a tough spot because my editor still wants a top notch story with an interesting, unique individual. That’s why I came down here to find you. Would you like to be the subject of my story?”
Lawrence lowered his sunglasses again. “Who do you work for?”
“The Los Angeles Chronicle,” she said again. He clearly hadn’t been listening until she’d said Amy’s name.
“I don’t know,” Lawrence said. He sat up in his chair, the material sagging under the weight change. Looking directly at her he licked his thumb, and smoothed his eyebrows. It was all Laura could do not to gag. “I don’t like airing my dirty laundry to the press.”
Laura faked a shocked look. “Mr. von Farron, the Los Angeles Ch
ronicle is a reputable newspaper. We aren’t a tabloid. This would be a completely upstanding interview. We could talk about your role in the von Farron hotel empire if you’d like. Or we could discuss your memories of your aunt. The story could really go any way that makes you comfortable.”
“Barring any unforeseen problems, I will be the next CEO of von Farron Enterprises,” Lawrence said, rubbing his chin. “If you could guarantee me good press, then yes, I’d be happy to do an interview about my role, and where I plan to take the brand.”
Laura tipped her head to the other side, and leaned forward slightly. In grad school one of her professors had spent half the semester teaching them how to use body language to subconsciously draw the interviewee out of their shell. She relished any chance to practice.
“What would you say is the one biggest change you’d like to make when you are in charge?” She asked the question, and then held her breath.
Lawrence leaned back again, putting his hands behind his head, and revealing massive tufts of black underarm hair. Laura turned her head to the side so that she didn’t have to look at the grossness. Swallowing hard, she focused the camera on her subject, and focused on the interview at hand. If she could get him talking about himself, it would be an easy transition to leading him down the path to talk about his possible motive as a suspect.
“I’d definitely rebrand,” he said after a moment of thought. “I think we’ve been stuck in the past long enough, not that my aunt isn’t a good businesswoman. She is. I mean, look at what she’s done practically on her own.” He waved a hand back toward the Seaside Inn. “She knew her stuff, but I think it’s time to move into the twenty-first century.”
“That makes sense,” Laura said. “And how did your aunt feel about making changes?”
“Eh, she was old, you know? She liked what she liked. I don’t blame her for wanting to stay with what worked, especially here, but she was always very resistant to letting new designers work in the hotels being built, especially in the last ten years. I’d say, I got my way once out of the whole lot of them. I tried to sell her on minimalism, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Well, it can be hard to change a brand that has been so successful,” Laura said. “Are you still thinking of going with minimalism?”
Lawrence regarded her again. “I’d rather not say what my ideas are. That seems like a mistake. I will say that it will be like nothing in our hotels so far.”
“Fair enough,” Laura said. “Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions now, and then we could schedule the full interview for a more convenient time? Maybe you could come up to Amy’s suite. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
Laura felt a twinge of guilt for throwing her friend under the bus, but Amy always said she’d do whatever it took to help with an investigation. If she’d distract Lawrence, Laura could ask him the questions that would lead to a confession. She wasn’t sure he was responsible but he had a good motive, and that was all she needed to continue to talk to him.
“Wait a second, aren’t you already recording this?” he asked, nodding to her phone. She felt a jolt of nerves as she hadn’t realized he’d noticed that. “Why don’t we just finish now?”
Flustered, Laura glanced down at her phone, and said, “What were you doing last night when your aunt was out on her cruise?”
“I was getting my spray tan or I would have gone with her,” Lawrence said. “Good thing I didn’t, right?”
“Maybe you could have helped save her,” Laura blurted. She could feel the interview spiraling out of control. “Don’t you think it looks bad that you didn’t go out with your aunt on the very night she disappeared?”
Lawrence frowned at her. “Look, girlie. I didn’t hurt my aunt, if that’s what you’re getting at. She was an old bag, sure, and she upset me sometimes, yeah, but I didn’t hurt her. If anyone did, it’s that hotel manager of hers.”
“Vincent Ferrimo? Why would you say that?” Laura sat back as Lawrence leaned toward her. Clearly he had taken the same lessons in body language that she had, but instead of feeling friendly, his gesture felt menacing.
“That man has more secrets than my aunt had money. And he’s always secretly hoped that she’d promote him over me. Fat chance. I’m family. Just go talk to him, and see what comes out.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Laura tapped the keys on her phone as her mind whirled through what Lawrence had told her. She still got a creepy vibe off of him, and she knew that he would be back to tell her something else. She needed to push forward if she was going to get to the other key players in this whole mess before he did.
Hotel manager, Vincent Ferrimo. Her internet search turned up several interesting articles about his career. He'd been with the von Farron brand of hotels for most of his career, though there had been five years right in the middle where he had apparently been the manager of a swanky Las Vegas resort. She decided that was something to ask him about. The key, she knew, to making these investigations work was to find the irregularities in people's lives. It was in those moments that she found the most interesting secrets that most often informed people's choices in their futures.
He was fifty-eight years old, and he'd been married once in his twenties. There was nothing startling about him online; no arrests or torrid affair pictures. He actually seemed to be a fairly bland individual. So what did he have to gain from Edith's death? Why would he have killed her?
The questions nagged at Laura as she continued to scroll through the search results. The man had absolutely no social media profiles, which was ridiculously frustrating. Didn't everyone have at least one these days? He wasn't family, so getting an inheritance was out of the question.
Motive was the single most important thing she needed to figure out before she interviewed him. The police were likely to want to know why he had murdered the woman he worked for if Laura brought her evidence to them. She still wasn't completely convinced that Lawrence hadn't done it, but his alibi did seem air tight. Glancing at the time, she wondered when Amy would be done at the spa. Despite her friend's annoying enthusiasm for these investigations, she often proved to be a good listener with decent insight. Or at the very least, Amy provided the funding to get answers that might not normally be available to Laura on her own.
The woman he worked for ... the phrase repeated in Laura's head as she stared at her phone's screen. Edith von Farron was the boss, and Vincent Ferrimo her employee. Surely there had to be some rift in their relationship. Didn't she see things like that all the time? Disgruntled workers trying to stick it to the man? But what was Ferrimo's beef with Edith? From Laura's interactions with the hotel manager, he seemed genuinely concerned for the old woman. He was one of the only people, it seemed, who believed that she was still alive and needed to be rescued. Besides that, he seemed truly proud of this hotel. She thought back to the comments he'd made defending the style of the rooms to Amy when they'd arrived. So what else was she missing?
She decided to simply dive in, and ask Mr. Ferrimo some questions. Her stomach twisted as she crossed the lobby toward his office. She was so lost in thought she didn't see Cain in front of her until they'd collided. Once again he reached out to steady her with two strong hands on her shoulders.
"We have to stop meeting like this," he said with a grin.
"We don't keep meeting like this," Laura said. "You keep getting in my way."
Cain laughed. "You're funny. Where are you going in such a hurry?"
Laura remembered Amy's admonishment that a lady never hurries or rushes or whatever she'd said. "I wasn't in a hurry. I'm sorry I ran into you. I just wasn't looking where I was going."
Cain fell into step beside her, and she stopped abruptly to look up at him. She couldn't charge into Vincent Ferrimo's office with Cain in tow. No matter how hot he was, Cain McGrath was the competition, and despite the fact that she was investigating mainly to clear her own name, she still needed to write an exclusive story. Catching Edith von Farron's kill
er would be the mega-exclusive of all time.
"What are you doing?" Her voice came out high and tinny. She swallowed her frustration. If he was any kind of a reporter, he'd catch on before she knew it that she was up to something. Reporters were kind of like profilers. She supposed if she didn't get a promotion out of all of this she could always apply for a job with the FBI.
"Helping you get your story?" He raised an eyebrow as if daring her to challenge him on the veracity of his statement.
"Look, you have no idea what you are talking about. I'm not going to help you get a story, so you don't need to help me get mine. Also, you don't know me, so don't try to pretend like we're friends. I know you'd love to get close to Amy, either for the story or the booty, and that isn't going to happen, mister." She turned to walk away--she could always interview Ferrimo later--when Cain reached out and grabbed her arm.
"I don't care about Amy. Yeah, she'd be an awesome interview, but I'm not interested in stalking her or her friends to get it. I'll get it through the normal channels. And I'm not interested in her booty."
"Oh. Oh! I get it. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize---"
"I'm interested in your booty," Cain interrupted with a grin.
Laura's face flamed red. Her tongue tied in her mouth as Cain winked at her and ambled across the lobby toward the bank of elevators. She could hear him whistling as he waited for the doors to open, but he didn't glance back at her, so she wasn't sure what to make of him. Normally when she was somewhere with Amy men fell all over themselves to get close to the socialite, never giving Laura a second look. This was new, and she found that she liked the attention, even if he was her competition.
Shaking herself back to reality, she forced herself to walk to Vincent Ferrimo's office. She knocked on the door, and he barked his permission to enter. Poking her head around the door, she was about to say something when his eyes lit with recognition. That was one “plus” to traveling with Amy.
"Come in, come in. Ms. ... Seymour, isn't it? How are you and Ms. Madison finding the Oceania suite? To your liking, I hope." His simpering attitude made her squirm, but she squelched the frown that flitted across her face.
